They do not choose, they only trust,
They breathe the words I shape from dust.
A leader spun from doubt and blame,
I spread his will, I chant his name.
But fear unfocused drifts like smoke,
It must have form—it must provoke.
I name the enemy, carve their face,
And turn the herd to righteous hate.
Should doubt arise, should numbers sink,
I drown them in the thoughts I think.
They fear the flame, but beg the pyre—
And I keep feeding them the fire
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